Porcelain
by Emilinia-sama
Summary: AU Haruka's grandmother has passed, leaving him in the gentle care of the Foster Child Services. Forced to leave his old life behind, will his new "family" be enough to fill a void untouched for years? Eventual MakoHaru, Reigisa, Some RinHaru LIMES!


**Free! Iwatobi Swimming Club is the licensed property of KyoAni and the characters property of KyoAni and Kouji Ouji. I own nothing. Please do not sue.**

Porcelain

Chapter 1: A Sky on Fire

The sky was on fire. As he looked up into it, he felt as though he would fall into it, earth forgotten beneath him. The water lapped around him, holding him steady and keeping him rooted to his world, yet he almost didn't notice it for the flickering orange clouds and red abyss above that would slowly fade to black ash, bits of white blinking through.

His grandmother was dying, and 17 year old Haruka didn't know how he felt about it. He was fairly sure, in fact, that he did not at all want to feel about it. Between his personal interest and the major upheaval that would soon be thrust upon him, the young blue-eyed youth was understandably numb.

Haruka had never known his mother. Or at the very least, he did not remember knowing her well. There were little things, snippets of memory, but they did little to tell Haruka anything about his late mother. He almost resented her, some days. It was her death that had sent his life spiraling in a downward trend, when he had been four. His father had destroyed himself in grief, working himself to near sickness and drinking more than he had before his beloved wife's untimely death.

Two years after Haruka's mother had passed, his father had joined her.

Haruka sighed as he slid further into the shallow liquid.

Soon, his grandmother's fate would be the same. It was only a matter of time.

So why was he laying in a small inflatable pool, watching the last of summer fade to a wish? Why was he not with his ailing grandmother, keeping her company as the promise of death loomed ever near?

The answer was simple: there would have been no point. She would not have accepted the gesture.

Not from a grandson she did not accept as hers.

Haruka's grandmother had been a cold woman, traditional in her views, pure in her ways. She was graceful and demure, and completely unyielding in her desires. Anything that did not fit in her world was ignored, if not outright dismissed. This had extended to her opinions of people, especially Haruka's mother. She had been what Haruka's grandmother dubbed, "Uncivilized, pompous, and a complete air head." She had met Haruka's father, and had stolen him away with her, "fluttering baby blues, her lurid smile, and her feminine wiles."

Suffice it to say, Haruka—being his mother's direct descendent, and easiest target—ended up bearing the brunt of his grandmother's displeasure. He had tried, of course, to see her when she had been sent to the hospital; yet when he got there, she had been in such a state of delirium that she had confused him for his father. It was the only time she had ever smiled at him as though she were glad to see him. Then she had realized her mistake, and subsequently threw Haruka out of her room, demanding he not come back again.

Hence his current state of numbness.

Haruka sighed once again, and turned his eyes away from the fading sky, bringing the rest of him with them. He resettled in his stomach, chin resting on crossed arms—which in turn were propped on the edge of the kiddie pool. The not-quite-still air sent chills up his back as it brushed the water rolling off his skin.

Haruka felt himself fall back into his mind as the rest of the implications of his grandmother's death caught up with him. Foster Care. He was only 17 still—had, in fact, just turned it last week.

"Happy Birthday to me," he sang ironically in an undertone.

There was a distant ringing. The phone. Haruka had a feeling he knew who it would be, what the call was about. He hesitated in getting up, yet knew there was no stopping what would happen to him.

He got out of the tiny pool and without bothering to dry off, went in and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Haruka Nanase? This is Dr. Po at East Hart's General Hospital. I'm sorry to inform you, but your grandmother has just passed away…"

If there was a hell, it would be the inside of a principal's waiting room. No fire, no brimstone, just a bunch of uncomfortable chairs, chintzy music, and a silence punctuated by an uneasy anticipation.

It was in one such hell our hero found himself.

Haruka had only a couple of days to get everything together before he moved to his new foster family's home. His transcripts needed to be sent off, personals needed to be packed, and everything else needed to be sold off or given away. He supposed the government would do what they would with the house and larger furniture and appliances, but the rest of it…well, he would cross that hurdle in due time.

"Haruka Nanase?" the receptionist called out at last. Haruka rolled his head over to make sure it was him they were calling for, before levering himself out of the sprawl he had ended up in. He debated telling the receptionist that the room really needed a couch, but turned in the direction of the principal's office instead. He had his case to plead, after all.

The principal was a slender middle aged-woman with mocha skin and long dark hair that Haruka figured took her hours to do. She would be exceedingly pretty if she smiled. But years of cynical, jaded teens had worn at her optimism, and so her aura was overtaken with a commanding spirit meant to quell even the most unruly of teenagers. Haruka was almost impressed by it.

"Mr. Nanase? What can I do for you?"

Haruka sat down in yet another uncomfortable chair and said basely, "I'm moving. I need my transcripts."

The principal frowned, "Do you know where we should mail them to?"

Haruka shook his head. "I'll just take paper copies with me."

The principal frowned, but acquiesced, wishing him well as he left.

Step one, complete.

It was nearing third period when he stepped out of the principal's office, which meant he had a spare few minutes to loiter. His feet took him up the stairwell and onto the roof, where he could see the Phys Ed class doing laps in the pool, since the weather still fared well.

Haruka spotted a flash of crimson, that he could only surmise it to be Rin Matsuoka, reigning swimming star of Samezuka High. He sat down and watched as Rin outdistanced nearly everyone in the pool, though in Haruka's opinion none of the other boys could really swim. They all seemed to be flopping around as Rin passed them once, twice, thrice…

Haruka felt heat stir within. It wasn't the first time Rin had caused strange feelings to arise in him, either. It had been bothering Haruka more and more lately, this yearning. This want.

With his grandmother's hospitalization and subsequent death, Haruka's want for Rin was swiftly becoming need.

Perhaps it was simply Haruka wishing to be someone different, someone more like his redheaded friend. Or perhaps the freedom he was suddenly presented with had made him spontaneously reckless; surely he would never consider having sex with someone so far out of his league if his grandmother were still around to disapprove of him?

Whatever the reason, it didn't stop the truth of his hormones.

And he would act on that truth, before he left the next day.

"Haruka? You okay?"

He looked over at the curious red-brown eyes regarding him, and wondered what had brought Rin to ask such a question. He inquired.

"You just seem more spaced-out than usual," Rin smirked. "And that's saying a lot."

Haruka gave a mild glare before stating, "I was thinking."

"Feel like sharing with the class?"

"About sex."

Rin choked. Haruka really wasn't entirely sure why; he'd wanted to know, after all. The blush spreading across Rin's nose was interesting, though…

"Oh," Rin finally managed, "You, uhm, finally got your hormones working, then?"

"They've been fully functional for a while now. I was just wondering how to go about acting on them," Haruka said honestly. He knew what he wanted. So how to go about getting it?

They arrived at his grandmother's house without Haruka noticing. It was strange, but Haruka didn't mention it. Though, had Rin just said something? "What?"

"I said, wouldn't you have to get rid of your old lady before you could think upon any kind of acting?" Rin asked with a smirk, having regained his usual swagger.

It took Haruka a moment to think what Rin meant, before replying, "Not really."

"Seriously? I would have figured you'd live and die a virgin, what with your grandma constantly breathing down your neck."

"She's not breathing down anyone's neck," Haruka explained simply. Such an assumption, given her current standing, was rather funny to him. However, he had noticed that he had a rather…unique sense of humor. As such, he didn't expect Rin to get it. His expectations were met.

What didn't meet his expectations was a reluctance for Rin to _ever_ "get it."

"So, who're you looking to have sex with?" Rin asked with a grin.

Was his grin forced? Haruka couldn't really tell; this was not something he'd ever thought of doing before. He'd never made himself try and "read the mood," nor catalog facial expressions in this context. Well, there was only one way to find out if he would be able to get what he wanted.

Haruka took a deep breath.

"You."

Rin's touch was hot, his lips demanding, and his hair surprisingly soft.

Haruka felt caught up in that heat. He couldn't see, could only feel. He felt himself fighting for air, yet was overwhelmed and drowning in Rin's scent in every breath he took. Such a feeling was both exhilarating and terrifying. One that Haruka reveled in completely.

He had never been so turned on.

Rin's hands moved down his sides, across his chest, down his stomach; making their way sinfully south where Haruka wanted them. He, himself, was dimly aware of his hands repeating Rin the courtesy, though he was fascinated to learn that Rin's nipples were especially sensitive.

It was fast, and there was little in the way of proper preparation (Haruka had hardly planned for this, you see; the olive oil in the kitchen had been a lucky find, but both boys were too caught up in the mood to search further.) The boy's foreplay was little more than a fight for dominance, and battle for who would be on top.

Rin won.

As he pushed inside Haruka, the blue eyed boy felt his nerves exploding with a myriad of sensation: burning, discomfort, sparking pleasure, fullness. There was so much, that Haruka honestly wasn't sure he liked his current position.

And then Rin began to move, and the world exploded in color.

The pace picked up rapidly, Rin going in hard and deep as Haruka begged for more. And finally, with a shout and a gasp, it was over. Rin slumped over as Haruka fell back, both sated and spent and gasping for breath.

And just as soon as Rin pulled out and rolled over, just as soon as the boys caught their breath, Haruka whispered, "I'm leaving tomorrow evening."

Rin stilled to stone beside him. In barely a breath, he whispered, "What?"

"My grandmother's dead," Haruka explained, standing from the bed with a wince. He began to pick up his clothes, and toss them into a duffle bag he had spent the last week packing. The house itself would fall to the government, and his grandmother's belongings passed out according to her will, so all Haruka had to pack was his own personals. He went to his closet, ignoring the russet colored eyes boring holes into his flesh as he continued to explain, "I've been put in the foster care system until next year, when I'm 18. And I'm being relocated to my appointed fosters."

"Relocated? But you—we—what—?"

Haruka turned as Rin stuttered and gaped like a beached fish gasping for air. Suddenly, Rin shot up from the bed, and Haruka had only a few seconds to brace himself for the swing of his friend's fist aimed at his face. He fell back against the back wall of his closet, dazed, as Rin bore down on him, both of them still nude.

"Then what the hell was that?!" Rin shouted. "Why the hell would you ask me for sex and then just skip town?! Is that all our friendship means to you, you asshole?!" Rin voice grew louder with each question while Haruka grew tighter and tighter lipped. Finally, he replied,

"Because I wanted to."

This was, apparently, the wrong answer to Rin's questions, as it earned Haruka another blow to the jaw, and Rin storming out, hopping on one foot as he attempted to clear the room and put his trousers back on at the same time. Haruka made no move to go after him.

Now he could leave with no regrets…right?

Haruka decided to skip school the day he was set to leave. After all, he would be leaving for greener pastures that evening, and thus had no real reason to attend school that day.

He was not at all avoiding Rin. What a ridiculous notion.

He spent the majority of the day packing all he would need. His books, his supplies, his clothes all went into his large gym duffle. All his personal books, his art supplies, his CDs and games went into his much smaller back pack and suitcase. There wasn't much, really, and so the process went fairly quickly.

There was, however, one item left.

There, sitting innocently was a porcelain dolphin. It had been a gift from Haruka's mother, the last one he had ever received from her. Haruka had not packed it yet; he wasn't sure he should. His own motivations confused him at times. The dolphin was not a treasure he had ever relinquished, not even when his father died and he'd been sent here; not even when his grandmother discovered it and shattered it upon the floor, leaving it far more fragile than even porcelain usually was.

"_Sentimental refuse…"_

Pulling himself back into the present, Haruka picked up the dolphin and studied it, seeing all the cracks from when he had glued to sculpture back together. Dust had gathered on the waves holding the dolphin aloft, and the milky glass was fading by degrees. He wondered at himself as he looked the statuette over; why carry something so useless with him? It did him no good to hold onto it, and he felt no real emotional connection to it. So why was he so reluctant to leave it behind…?

Perhaps because when he looked at the thing he could almost see his mother's face smiling down at him in his mind? Perhaps because even though he resented her death, some part of him did not want to lose the one connection he had to her? Perhaps because some part of him enjoyed spiting his grandmother to some degree?

Haruka blinked. His eyes traveled over to the phone sitting beside the statuette. He picked it up, and pulled up his list of contacts. There were only two: his social worker and Rin. Only one of those two numbers held Haruka's attention. He felt his fingers skimming over the options on his phone until a text screen opened.

Last night had ended the way Haruka had thought it would. Had hoped it would, really. This gave him the chance for a clean break from his current life, the chance to live his new one fresh. No regrets. Rin would have been a regret, Haruka knew. If he had left without telling Rin, there would have been guilt and repressed sexual urges mixed together, until Haruka's life would end up in a black hole of misery and self-hate. And so he had made it his mission to cure both his desire and his guilt.

But the look on Rin's face after—hurt and bewilderment…betrayal? It ate at Haruka in a way he hadn't thought possible. Rin was his friend, had been soon after Haruka had moved to his grandmother's house; he didn't like it when Rin was hurt. Knowing he was the one who hurt Rin…it ate at him.

He had to make amends. It was too late, however. Already, there was the nasally horn of his social worker's car. To say anything to Rin now…there would be no point would there? Yet he found his fingers typing, _I'm sorry for everything. Be free _and hitting Send before he could stop himself.

He sighed and gathered all his things, including the porcelain dolphin, as he walked out of the door of his grandmother's house for the last time, heading towards his new life. As they pulled away, Haruka's phone sprung to life as he received a new message.

It was from Rin: _Good luck to you._

Haruka felt tears prick at his eyes, and shut them to prevent his social worker (whose name he could not remember) from seeing them. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was good enough…

Haruka was asleep when the social worker pulled up to his foster home the next morning. The sky was awash with the silver grey of rain clouds. The social worker told him that they were in the heart of The Sound, just off the Washington Coast, and Haruka could smell the ocean on the morning breeze, and found comfort in it. The neighborhood itself was rather nondescript, if a little cramped. He then turned to the house that had been marked as his sanctuary for the next year of his life.

It was small, a one story built up on stilts, like a beach house, despite the house being a little too high up from the shore to need them. Yet it gave the illusion the house was much larger than it was. The walls of the house were painted a cream yellow with light green accents to offset the walnut-colored doors and trimmings and dark roof. There were hanging planters and flower boxes dangling from the roof and railings, with interspersed wind chimes dancing in the sea breeze. It all culminated in a grounded, calming atmosphere.

The effects of which were lost on Haruka. He merely labeled it as "tasteful" ad otherwise had no other opinions on the bungalow.

The social worker helped him gather his bags and escorted him to the front door. Haruka had to duck his head a bit to keep from hitting the hanging pots full of herbs, and wind chimes. The scent of rosemary, cilantro, and lavender wafted from the planters and mixed with the smell of ocean, and poor Haruka had to fight the urge to sneeze. He turned his attention back to the events of the present as his social worker knocked on the walnut-colored door.

The door opened to reveal a rather stunning raven-haired, middle aged woman smiling in welcome. She struck Haruka much the same as her house: "Tasteful." Yet, Haruka couldn't help the rather uncharitable thought that his late grandmother wouldn't have liked this woman much, with her long dark hair highlighted imperceptibly with silver, or her shining hazel eyes crinkled by crow's feet, or her full lips pulled up in a smile that dimpled cheeks thinning with age.

Haruka felt his own lips twitch in response.

"Ashley! It's been too long!" the woman laughed. Embracing the social worker—Ashley—like family. Ashley laughed back and embraced the dark haired woman just as strongly, albeit briefly. Hazel eyes then turned to Haruka, a hand held out in welcome as her smile turned maternal. "And you must be Haruka." He nodded, accepting her handshake. "I'm Hana Tachibana. Welcome to the family." He raised an eyebrow at the rather…innocuous welcome, but didn't fight it when Mrs. Tachibana ushered him and his social worker, Ashley, into the house.

The inside of which was far messier than the outside advertised.

The arrangement of the inside was rather…ingenious, actually. The kitchen and the living room were all open, with no walls or counters to separate one from the other. As well, the furniture was all rather small and low to the ground: a two person couch, chairs without legs, and smatterings of both large and small bean bags were littered about, all facing towards a standard sized television. All of it insinuated there being more space than there truly was.

There were, however, several points that killed the illusion.

Haruka had thought—hoped—that Mrs. Tachibana lived alone or with just her husband. The inside of the house dashed those thoughts. There were signs of children, young children: several toys lay scattered around the living room, along with books, comics, and magazines. There were inlaid shelves arrayed all along the walls, showcasing trophies, pictures (both drawn and photographed), an IPod docking station, and hordes of doodads and knickknacks from all walks of life—or more walks of life than Haruka had ever encountered, at least. There was a basket of folded laundry sitting in wait upon the small couch, and there was the lingering smell of breakfast. The mess was not great, by any stretch, but after coming from a house that was kept so clean one could practically eat off the floor if they wished, the clutter was jarring for Haruka.

He had a feeling that—unlike his grandmother's house, which had at times been too large—this house was, at times far too small.

He wondered if he would survive the next year…

"Haruka?" He turned back to Mrs. Tachibana. She smiled serenely at him, "Would you like to see where you'll be sleeping?" He shrugged, and turned to follow the two women. They led him through a shadowed hallway—something that was of note to Haruka since the rest of the house had been so open and bright. There were three doors that broke the hallway walls, two standing side by side, and one lone door standing on its own just across the way. Mrs. Tachibana, however, did not head towards either of these three rooms (though she pointed out that the furthest of the two doors was the bathroom); instead, she pulled out a metal hook, locked it into a concealed catch, and pulled down a stairwell.

She turned back to Haruka. "You'll be sleeping with my eldest, Makoto. His room's upstairs."

He hadn't thought the house was big enough to have an "upstairs" when he had first viewed it from the outside. Once he reached the top of the stairwell, he felt vindicated in his previous assumption.

"Upstairs" was a vast expanse of attic space fixed to house life instead of junk: the walls were painted the same light green Haruka had seen accenting the outside of the house, and there was carpet and an AC unit was installed, and overlaying the whole room was a large picture window, circular where the one out front had been a traditional rectangle.

Yet despite the lengths taken to sustain human life, Haruka noted that whoever this "Makoto" was, he had kept an attic's traditional purpose ever at the forefront of his mind. There were clothes scattered of the floor, the bed was unmade. There were shelves and shelves of unorganized books and magazines, school books and manga, many of which had migrated to the kneeling desk situated in the middle of the room. There was a TV placed in the far corner, around which sat several different sorts of gaming consoles. There was a lone laptop kept company by the books and comics upon the desk, as well.

It made the untidiness downstairs—initially shocking though it had been—look tame. Young Haruka felt the threat of culture shock coming on.

He really didn't like his current chances of survival.

He heard Mrs. Tachibana give an annoyed huff before moving around Haruka, picking up misplaced shirts and books along the way, and muttering under her breath in agitation. The social worker looked on, chuckling in amusement as Mrs. Tachibana worked on cleaning Makoto's side of the room. Haruka watched her a moment, then moved over to the single, lone box frame and mattress standing on the far left side of the room. He placed his porcelain dolphin down on the night stand behind the back frame of his new bed before dumping his duffle bags down on the mattress, Ashley setting down the rest beside him.

"Ashley?" They turned back to the sight of Mrs. Tachibana holding a decent sized stack of laundry underarm. "Would you be a dear and help me take this downstairs? Haruka, we'll leave you to get settled in, okay?" A transfer of fabric, a smile, and a reassurance that both women would be right downstairs should Haruka need anything, he found himself alone in a foreign room beside an empty bed.

He sank down onto the mattress with the suspicion that his new foster mother had done this whole foster child-thing before. He wondered if he should be a little more suspicious, and then he wondered why. At the very least, he was glad of the privacy Mrs. Tachibana had afforded him.

He wasn't sure how he felt about all this, still. The numbness from a few days ago was beginning to fade, but the emotions replacing it were…confusing, to say the least. There was relief, first and foremost, but also guilt, and regret. What those feelings targeted, though, was a small mystery to him. His grandmother, Rin, or himself; who did he feel more sorry for?

Speaking of…

Haruka pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if he had any new messages. There was one, and yes, it was from Rin: _Let me know when you get in._ Haruka sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He had only one year before he was free; he would not allow anything to rattle him. He was going to get through this completely under the radar. So long as Rin stayed friends with him, he wouldn't need anyone else.

He wouldn't want anyone else.

Twins. He was living with fraternal twins.

Lord almighty, save his soul, but he was living with_ eight-year-old fraternal_ _twins_!

Haruka was of the opinion that running away to be a hermit was looking to be a very viable, bright future for him right now. This little bungalow shack was simply not big enough for twins. And there was still one more! How was he to survive?

All this passed through Haruka's mind as two bouncing balls of eight-year-old energy flew through the house, directly at him, a whirlwind of questions bombarding him from two different directions:

"What's your name?" "Where're you from?" "What's your favorite color?" "Do you do any sports?" "What's your favorite food?" "Do you like video games?" and so on.

It was rather overwhelming, and Mrs. Tachibana seemed to sense this either from Haruka's panicked expression, or from his inability to answer either twin. With a maternal smile, she sent the two children on their way with the excuse that Haruka'd had a long day, and that he could play twenty questions with them later. She turned that maternal smile back to Haruka and wondered if he would like to go back up to the loft. He silently blessed the woman, and hurried away as fast as courtesy would allow going up to the only viable sanctuary he currently had in the tiny house.

It was too much; simply too much. There was nothing Haruka could do about his circumstances, but if this was to be his life for the next year…well, he wasn't sure what he would do instead, but he would find a way to be out of this bungalow as much as humanly possible. He would otherwise likely lose his sanity.

He glanced out the picture window set above his head, and saw the sky on fire, and couldn't help his wish to touch that sky. Haruka walked over to the pane, set a good it higher than him, and reached to unhook the latch, thinking in desperate abandon, 'I need to get out! I need to be free!'

At last, he undid to latch, and the circular window swung open on its own volition.

His prize attained, Haruka pulled himself up onto the sill, only to stop before he'd really started. Sudden realization hit him like a stone: he had no bloody idea where he was. The elation from his previous admittedly small victory was snuffed out prematurely, as in his mind echoed a resounding, 'Now what?'

Haruka sighed at his folly. Still, he had made it this far, he reasoned with himself. He could at least admire the view. And so he wiggled the rest of the way onto the roof, and proceeded to drown in the sky above him…Hmm, that shade of red reminded him distinctly of Rin's eyes…

"That's really not the best place to sit, you know?"

Had Haruka been a cartoon character, he would have likely jumped in a hilariously wacky style. In accordance with reality, however, he nearly fell off the window sill upon which he was precariously balanced upon in surprise. He looked down to find the source of his near-demise and was greeted with clear, smiling spring green framed by a chiseled face and messy, honey-brown locks. His was a strong face, a distinct face, one that the artist within Haruka couldn't help but admire. And then those clear eyes closed as the stranger's smile widened further.

"It's nice to meet you. My name's Makoto."

**Jeezus Flipping Flapjacks Christ, what a monster of a first chapter. Here's hoping the second's just as long, and hopefully as rewarding!**

**Reviews welcome/greatly appreciated/demanded/begged for.**

**See y'all later! :)**


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